Famous by proximity
by Melancholy's Sunshine
Summary: Harry is the Savior of the Wizarding World. Hermione is the brightest witch of their age. Ron is Harry's best friend and Hermione's boyfriend. So he'd be famous because he's close to them right? Eh, kind of.
1. Chapter 1

It was funny how life worked. Something that seemed so insignificant and basic could change a life.

For Ron, it could have been the fateful meeting on the train where he met his future best friend Harry Potter.

It could have been the desicion to go warn Hermione.

Learning about Nicholas Flamel.

Just _going_ to Hogwarts.

But in truth, what changed his life was a simple day.

He was four. His mum had been commenting how Ron needed to work on his letters, that he should ask Bill or Charlie or Percy to help him write clearer. Neater.

Being the youngest boy and wanting his mum's approval, he did just that.

He first asked Bill who was trying to find his broom. Bill told him that he just needed to write letters more. Practice apparently made perfect. And perfect letters made perfect words.

He then asked Charlie who was looking over a book on dragons he had gotten after saving up his money. Charlie brushed him off and said to practice his words, any that he knew until they were legible.

Lastly, he asked Percy who was trying to get his shoes back from the twins. Percy turned to face Ron after the twins slipped out of sight. With as much calmness and clarity as he could, he told Ron to write down everything that happened around him. Ron didn't get to ask what he meant as he tore off after the twins for his shoes.

With the three brothers' words in mind, he practiced his letters, a few words and even wrote a quick sentence about Percy chasing the twins. Hearing his mum yell, he continued writing her words, stumbling and missing a few, and even misspelling, but also writing what he thought was going on.

The paper looked as though two chickens had gotten into a fight atop of it. But it was a start.

Like clockwork, he hoped to impress his mum with something he was good at. He practiced his letters and his words everyday, and wrote what he heard and thought to get more practice in.

He was seven when he got to show his mum his much clearer and cleaner writing he was proud of. She hardly noticed as she dealt with the twins' most recent prank. He watched as his mother moved in her usual flurry fashion until he walked away, back to his room in the attic. He didn't cry. His face grew blank. Crying would get him nowhere. He was supposed to not cry. Fred and George picked on him when he cried.

He fidgeted a little bit, his fingers kept twitching needing to do something. Without thought, he grabbed his parchment he had been practicing on and an inked quill and began writing. He felt his mild dissapointment ebb away.

He didn't know then, but he would continue the practice at least once a week, sometimes more. Writing what was going on in life, his thoughts and emotions on it.

He never showed his family. He never showed his friends. It became something private he would do. Like the twins, pranks or Percy's studies, Harry's alone brooding or Hermione's studying. When the world wasn't focused on him, he would let a part of it out. Even if it was just to parchment.

He did it for years.

He even had a fresh leather bound book filled with parchment he found buried in Bill's old stuff for his first year. Okay, so maybe he shouldn't've gone throug Bill's old things. But it wasn't like he was using the small book. So, there wasn't really any harm in taking it.

He wrote good times and bad ones. All until the defeat of the dark lord himself, Voldemort.

Seven years of thoughts, promises, regrets and name calling. All written in a slew of journals in old bags. If he had really thought about it, he would have removed, and hidden the journals in places he would think no one would find them. But alas, he could be incredibly lazy when the mood struck him.

It was so bad, he'd grab any bag he swore had some pocket change in it and just haul it with him wherever he was going rather than emptying it.

It was one of those simple things that changed his life, yet again.

He didn't notice he had left the bag at the three broomsticks after he paid for his meal.

He had no idea that someone had peaked inside to find his school journals he told himself he'd take care of later.

He wasn't aware that the person actually _read_ the unedited thoughts of one Ronald Weasley.

And with the cleanup from the war, the rounding up of Death Eater, and the auror training, he never had a chance to really notice, a suspicious amount of attention not only the famed Harry and Hermione, but he himself, was gaining.

Nor the filled Flourish and Botts or the numerous letters from Neville he just had no time to read.

Well, if it was important, he'd floo Ron surely.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm selling a book here that _isn't_ about pranks," George commented to a grinning Neville.

"It is a good book. And I have a feeling it'll do well in _your_ shop."

"Hope you're right. Fred's probably turning in his grave at the very nerve of a book being here."

Neville just kept up his smile. George had trusted the meek yet famous Gryffindor with little hesitation. After all, their families were friends and he had slayed Voldemort's snake.

So, George did order about fourty copies of a book on Neville's recommendation, to sell in the shop.

"You might want to keep a copy for yourself," Neville suggested, "It's quite a good read."

"Then it should sell well. Let's get these on the shelf, shall we?"

"Alright."

The box was large and extremely heavy. George stumbled a bit in shock.

"Geez, bit heavy aren't they? You sure there are only fourty in here?"

"Absolutely."

George grumbled as he opened the box with Neville behind. There was a pause as George lifted a book from the box and read the title.

"Going to school with the Boy who Lived?"

Geroge looked at Neville who was trying to hide his laugh.

"Did you write this?"

"Maybe you should read and find out."

"Oh get out of here!"

Neville did just that, leaving George with fourty large books.

George would later deny he had spent the rest of the day, that night, and the following day, reading through the monstrosity of a book.

When it was finished, his eyes were red from a lack of sleep and a bounty of tears.

He wasted no time taking the book back to the burrow.

He knew a few... Other people who would want to read this.

* * *

Months went by with Ron still writing, this time in his life, over jokes about when Bill would be a dad, his auror training with Harry and Hermione and having to explain to gawking individuals that Harry and Hermione, though gifted were just ordinary magical being's like himself. He didn't understand the giggling but went with it.

He also swore that there were some witches... _Flirting_ with him. He was dating Hermione for Merlin's sake! Usually, a guy would hit on her and he'd "defend" her from their advances. Hermione didn't seem to take too kindly to the girls doing... Well, _flirting_ , Ron really didn't know what else to call it.

All through fall after a summer of recovery and fresh wounds, into the beginning bleeding of winter with Christmas on its way.

Ron had no idea that he was a famous author rivaling the once popular Gilderoy Lockheart. He had no idea that each member of his family, including Harry and Hermione, had also read the book.

And he had no possible idea that they each were giving him the same gift, a copy of his book... With some _minor_ commentary from the sender.

 **My sister and I were talking in the car and somehow this popped up.**

 **Now, I have no internet at home so this can't be as long as I would hope. But I'll let your imagination do the talking.**

 **The idea was that Ron could have written a book about, essentially, going to school with Harry and what he was thinking.**

 **I may eventually (just a possibility) write different people reacting to certain moments within the books. Like the car stealing and meeting Aragog.**

 **But as it currently stands, this is all there is and there will not be anymore for quite some time if ever.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed and will grace this story with your opinion of it.**


	2. Chapter 2

George wasted little time in dropping the book copies off at each of his siblings, his parents and Harry and Hermione. He left without answering questions, much like what Neville did to him. He had something he had to do.

Walking along a well tended path, he gave a watery smile to a rather fresh and well tended grave.

"Hello Fred..."

He talked to the stone for a few minutes and read for hours, pretending he was answering things and making smart comments about everything Ron got into they didn't know about. They knew the troll, but not the Devil's Snare. They knew of the chamber, they didn't know that Ron had been trapped with a possibly mad lying professor. They knew of Sirius Black, they didn't know the details of him being dragged into the shack in the Whomping Willow. They knew so many of their adventures, yet, there was so many things they didn't know.

"You know, it's funny. We were getting into a lot of trouble when we were his age, but he really took the cake."

"You remember what we were doing when he was running around?"

There was a slight breeze that turned a few pages.

"Yeah. Lot's of pranks. I wonder if he knew what we used to do... That's it!"

* * *

Charlie teared up as he read the chaos his youngest brother had gotten into during his seven years, he should have had a relatively normal school time.

Instead, he had been fighting for his life every year. Be it He-who-must-not-be-named (mainly He-who-must-not-be-named) or some other crazy individual.

It made the dragon pick seem more normal. Hell, he had to reread the traveling into the forest at least three times when he read that he had ran into Agromantula and its' children. He had told Ron that he had to get over his fear of spiders for many years. Although, given his run in the forest, Charlie couldn't fault him for his fear, especially since he had apparently stood next to Harry as he had spoken to the grand blind beast, and was chased out in their dad's car.

And what was he doing? He was watching dragons- okay that was pretty cool. He loved what he did, but he was surprised that Ron never boasted about what he had seen in his years in Hogwarts.

He had taken notes with his reactions of each little thing he had learned about his brother. He knew it wouldn't make up for the apparent secrets between the family and Ron. But it would be a start.

* * *

Bill was sure he had a red mark on his face from smacking himself so many times. He thought he knew his brothers pretty well. And to an extent, he did.

Even if Fluer had made comments about how he had blushed particularly hard when he first saw her, Bill felt he knew his youngest brother as well as he could.

Apparently not if his younger years were anything to go by. The first year alone... The mirror...

It was haunting to say the least. Even Fluer seemed perplexed, not really knowing the younger boy- no. Man.

Both Bill and his wife wrote words of encouragement, surprise and slight reprimands for being an idiot, much like he was any time he mentioned Hermione.

* * *

Percy didn't want to read the book. Not when he realized what it was.

He liked his personal space. He was sure that Ron would want his. But there were questions. So many questions about what happened when his brother would run off.

For research only, he looked into the history of Hogwarts, through his youngest brother's eyes. He paled with the secrets he uncovered. The insecurities, the need to be great.

Had they not been Weasleys, bred with Gryfinndor their ideal, he could have very well landed in Slytherin. He wrote down suggestions of what could have been done in hindsight and wrote apologies for the many times he could have _helped_ them.

* * *

Ginny wasn't interested in the book. She wasn't. She _wasn't._ Alright so maybe she did want to know a bit about the chamber. It wasn't all clear to her...

It ended before she knew it, learning more about Harry, Hermione and her own brother than she thought possible. The same brother who was so oblivious about basic relationships and yet was the only one overprotective when it came to relationships. She couldn't help but cry when she read about him standing inbetween Sirius and Harry during her second year. When she had asked Harry if it was true he confirmed it with a sad smile.

She hadn't known him to be brave when she was little. He was the scaredy brother. The one who was constantly afraid and received pranks from Fred and George. The one terrified of spiders, didn't know how to talk to girls, was stubborn and hardly thought through his words.

When did he change to the man she saw at the battle? Or in Dumbledore's Army?

He was still terrified of spiders, was hopeless at talking to girls who weren't Hermione (and even then there were some bad moments), was stubborn and hardly thought before he spoke.

But he had changed. He had grown up.

Absent mindedly, she drew doodles in the book of how she envisioned the different things he described.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure whether to hug George or slap him for giving her what she was quick to realize, was a copy of Ron's personal journal. A particular sore spot between her and Ron when they had been traveling during their would have been, seventh year.

She had caught him writing seemingly meaningless things down while he was wearing the necklace that held a piece of Voldemort's soul. She had told him to stop wasting time. He had snapped at her that what he was doing was important.

Reading the journal now, she knew why. Within the end portion of the book, appeared to be a section filled with what one could assume was just busy work of pessimistic words. But she and Harry knew better. He was writing down everything that Voldemort was telling him. Perhaps to seperate his words from reality, or his own insecurities. So he would know what to fight while they searched for a way to destroy it.

And the fact that it had been going on for years, behind their backs. Even a small portion about him sitting in the Medical Wing when Harry was hurt or when she was petrified, it was all secrets written down.

Secrets other girls were privy to know.

She knew her boyfriend was dense. She knew he was self concious being the youngest son of very popular boys. But now with this book being read by witches of all ages, girls were starting to pay him a lot of attention. Even _little_ girls. It was like he had reached Gilderoy Lockhart's level of fame and would be searched out. God forbid she take him into a book store _now_. He would be hounded by autographs. And if his attitude was anything to go by, he had no idea that he even had a book.

Well, he'd know about it by Christmas if she had anything to say about it.

* * *

Harry didn't know if he should thank Ron for documenting everything that they got into during their years at Hogwarts, or hurt him. He was leaning closer to hurting Ron given the look McGonagall was giving him now.

Harry wasn't surprised she had found out about the book. He was surprised however, that he had been called to her office.

She had been quite thourogh with a verbal lashing as she picked apart everything that they had from her over the years. Everything that had been oh so well documented in Ron's book. Harry was just lucky Hagrid wasn't in hot water over the Dragon's egg...

* * *

Time went on as Christmas grew closer, Ron had scrapped money together for everyone's gifts. An old cook book for his mum, a "flash light" for his dad, Some plates for Bill and Fluer, an earring for Charlie, some dusty official looking book for Percy, a notepad and disappearing ink for George, some Quiditch gloves for Ginny, a Quiditch team shirt for Harry with Krum's number on it, and a small but pretty necklace for Hermione. Heck, he even got some sweets for Neville and Luna.

Needless to say, he felt rather prepared for Christmas.

 **A follow up of sorts, showing different people's reactions.**


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur had stayed by Molly's side with every turn of the page. Both read together, delighted, horrified and filled with melancholy as they read Ron's most intimate thoughts during his years at Hogwarts.

All this time... All these troubles.

Their youngest son... They didn't want to believe it. But they could hear his voice, his mannerisms bleed out from the work. As if he were sitting in front of them and telling them everything.

" _... I can't believe I met Harry Potter! No one's going to believe me..."_

 _"-she's such a know it all-"_

 _"-got lost for the third time-"_

 _"-I don't think I could've held back my laughter any longer with Peeves mimicking Percy-"_

 _"- **Malfoy-"**_

 _"Hagrid named the blasted thing Norbert!"_

 _ **"** The most beautiful chess set I have ever seen-"_

 _"So chess may have given me a concussion..."_

 _"They locked him away-"_

 _"I'm glad to be back! Gin's a Gryffindor. Mum and dad' gonna be so proud-"_

 _"-something's wrong here-"_

 _"I don't know how to protect Harry from everyone."_

 _"They got Mione. I want to punch something-"_

 _"Spiders. They were **everywhere**. I can't sleep. Their long hairy legs... Aragog's large unseeing eyes. And all his children. I fear if I blink, they'll show back up. My body is covered in goose flesh. All those webs... I want my mum and dad. They'd know what to do."_

 _"-Moaning Myrtle's bathroom-"_

 _"-Lockhart's confused and dazed eyes-"_

 _"-Dumbledore's Pheonix came out of nowhere-"_

 _"I could really go for some chicken right now. Or mum's shepard's pie..."_

 _"Egypt rocks!"_

 _"Black escaped. I can't sleep again. Thankfully the ghoul in the attic means everyone is used to sleeping with a lot of noise. I know how mum and dad have been doing trying to keep us safe with a murderer on the loose. But even they sleep. So I've made another round around the house. Everything's fine. Scabbers isn't looking so good-"_

 _"I couldn't feel anything good. Like all my joy had been chilled and frozen, splintering into painful fragments within my body... I think I lost my appetite..."_

 _"-The new defense against the dark arts teacher is awesome!"_

 _"Quidditch season-!"_

 _"Harry's in the infirmary. Dementer attack. Dad talked about them..."_

 _"Black attacked. And I swear Crookshanks ate Scabbers."_

 _"So Scabbers was a **man-** "_

 _"I'm sure mum would kill me for this."_

 _"Victor Krum!"_

 _"Triward tournament. Shame they aren't doing Quidditch. I could clearly see Wood crying over this **indignance**."_

 _"I can't look Harry in the eye. He's in the tournament. I don't know if I'm angry at him or scarred for him! Can't he give the nearly dying thing out of one school year? And Hermione is on **his** size."_

 _"Charlie... No."_

 _"I may have cried a little after the first challenge. I think I'm relieved. And possibly do have a limited emotional capacity. Wow, Percy would be proud of those words. And apparently that I have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon."_

 _"Hermione... Was... Hot... And I looked like Aunt Tessie."_

 _"Cedric's dead. And Harry gave me the worst news. Voldemort's back."_

 _"Alright so I **may** have stolen some of Fred and George's inventions-"_

 _"Umbridge is an Um-bitch. Thank Merlin mum will never see this-"_

 _"-blood quills-"_

 _"-Dumbledore's Army-"_

 _"I've never been more glad to have Fred and George with me. Fred's been nothing if not supportive and George is being all kinds of protective of the younger students. Anything to help them from that vile, piss poor, bloody excuse of a toad. She makes Snape look like a saint."_

 _"Fred and George went out with a bang-"_

 _"-I can't remember the last time someone held me when I was crying like I did for Harry. He seemed to need it with Sirius Black dying. Just another sleepless night. Maybe some Bertie Botts would cheer him up-"_

 _"Umbridge was fired. I'm so happy I could kiss someone!"_

 _"Have to say... Helping to set up a joke shop, not as fun as it sounds. But, it's a nice distraction from preparing for war."_

 _"-And I thought Snape teaching potions was a nightmare-"_

 _"Horocruxes-"_

 _"I'm scared."_

 _"I'm terrified."_

 _"I'm worthless."_

 _"I'm not the wizard Harry and Hermione need me to be."_

 _"I destroyed the locket. And I'm bloody sure glad I did."_

 _"-Hogwarts is burning-"_

 _"I never thought something could make my heart hurt quite like a dementer. Seeing George weep over Fred... I knew I was wrong."_

 _"It's almost surreal. I have expect to wake up, and everyone will be running around, like always. Where Voldemort never did kill anyone. But I've got my family, and Harry and Mione too. I hope they know they have me to lean on too."_

 _"I hope I'm enough for them in the aftermath. For once."_

"How did we miss this Arthur?" Molly chocked out with tears spilling out of her eyes.

"I don't believe Ron always told us everything he was up to," Arthur responded shakily. He held Molly as she gave a rare sign of emotional weakness and cried into her husband's chest, over the secrets her son carried as his burden.

* * *

Draco Malfoy didn't have much reaction to the book written by the ginger haired boy of his year. A _Weasley_ book. Nonetheless, he did read it.

Admittedly, it did explain some rather odd situations at Hogwarts. Like Potter's disappearing trick. And Crabbe and Goyle's weird moment at around Christmas with reading glasses and the Chamber. And how the mud- _Granger_ , had taken practically every class. And now Potter's name got in the goblet, and just how the secret army had their meetings.

Although, he did get irritated with how much Weasley put in him talking about his father. He did _not_ talk like that!

* * *

Ron gave a soft sigh as he placed his gifts for everyone under the tree in the main room of his parent's home. Everyone would be coming over Christmas morning for breakfast and gifts.

Ron hoped they enjoyed the gifts.

 **Why did I write more?! I don't even know anymore. It just sort of happened. Please, nobody kill me for this. I just want to curl up in a little ball and hide away for awhile. But life waits for no one. Not even an overly tired writer.**

 **Well, I guess that's all I've got to say so later everyone!**


	4. Chapter 4

Ron woke on the bright and early in his older attic bed room and habitually grabbed his journal. Within the silence of the morning where even the ghoul remained quiet, it was perfect for writing. With a well kept quill and inkwell at the ready, he wrote in his journal in well practiced and familiar strokes.

A small prelude to the writing he would do later. The brief quiet before Christmas, with snow dusting outside and a sweet calmness he hadn't felt in quite some time.

Just a way to keep his thoughts organized. Especially since Fred had died. He knew it had hit George rather hard. It had hit them all hard, but Ron couldn't imagine how it would have been to lose a twin. He guessed it was much like, missing an ear. Something so close and you swear you can't live without it after having it your entire life. The very _idea_ that one day it could be gone was not something anyone considered.

He never did. None of them did.

But they couldn't just stop living. Wouldn't that mean that in a sick and twisted way that Voldemort had won? Even if it had been a bitter victory only preying on their psyche.

He sighed quietly to himself. He'd have to go back through some of his older journals. He wanted to remember the good times.

But for some reason, he couldn't seem to find those bloody books. Curse his messy habits.

He really needed to get organized. Some day. But not today.

It was Christmas for goodness sake.

With tired excitement, he went to meet with everyone in the main living space and took his spot on the couch as everyone began to wake up and gather. His body felt exhausted and he felt so much older. Tradition had it, they would open presents, then his mum would make a breakfast feast.

One by one, each person filtered into the room. Waves of red hair with the single splashes of black and brown.

"Happy Christmas everyone," Ron said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. As wonderful a holiday it was, with Voldemort forever gone, it was still one with one Weasley short. The first of many without him.

"Happy Christmas," was just as enthusiastically returned. Flier confidentially sat on the armrest of the chair Bill was sitting in. Hermione sat to his left and George took a place to his right, not wanting to sit in his usual spot where he and Fred would joke. He instead attempted to take comfort from being close to one of his living, _breathing_ siblings.

Harry was the last one in, awkwardly carrying packages with a sheepish grin.

Some were large, some were small. But each one seemed to have a rather poor wrapping job. Not that Ron's was much better, but he had some practice. His looked openable, Harry's looked like it was covered in Devil's Snare. Kind of like when Fred and George decided to make impossible to open gifts one year for the holidays. It was infuriating and one of the best days ever. No one could leave until all the gifts were unwrapped and Percy practically wrestled with his for the better part of an hour. The metal book mark inside was nice though, and Ron knew he still used it.

"Got enough packages Harry?"

"I think so."

"Well, good. Otherwise you're going to make us look bad," Ron joked.

"Never." With that, Harry distributed the gifts he brought to their designated person, surprising Ron with the largest package, landing on his lap. Ron grunted under the weight. He couldn't tell what was in the lumpy package but whatever it was it was heavy.

"Bloody Hell Harry-"

"Ronald," Molly butted in, "Watch your language. It's Christmas."

"Yes mum."

Harry grinned at Ron.

"Oh rack off Harry."

"Happy Christmas to you too Ron."

Harry's eyes gazed under the tree and his brow furrowed. He may not have been a necessarily a brilliant witch like Hermione, who was really? But even he could notice an odd trend with a set of gifts. All were in slightly different paper. Some using the same paper a different way, but they all seemed to hold a package of the same size and dimensions. But no... It couldn't be. Surely they were going to different people. And they couldn't all be the same thing... Could they?

He'd find out soon enough he mused.

"Big packages under the tree this year," Ron muttered quietly. He hoped that the gifts didn't make him look bad. As selfish as it was, he didn't want to look like the cheapskate with the gift giving. Someone had obviously taken a lot of effort with the larger gifts. And given Harry just walked in with his to hand out, he knew someone else must have gone all out. Ron could feel the tips of his ears burning. Of course they would go all out. He-who... _Voldemort_ was gone. For good this time. And his brothers were grown and had jobs, loves of their own freeing up his mum and dad's savings.

A harsh bitterness settled in his mind over the need to find a job too. But he pushed it aside to enjoy Christmas.

It was Charlie who stood up and walked over to the tree to begin the distribution of gifts as he opened his gift from Harry. Normally a shared responsibility between the twins since they had learned to read... They always loved to mix up the gifts or make exaggerated presentation of the presents. Ron could hear the tearing of paper as his mother and father eagerly took pictures.

"Aren't you going to open yours Ron?" Harry asked with a slightly devious glint in his Slytherin green eyes. Ron grinned at his friend and gave a quick glance around the room realizing he was the only one who hadn't opened Harry's gift yet. He eagerly began to try and unwrap the tight lumpy mess to see what Harry had gotten him.

Whatever it was, it was _heavy._ There was good natured laughter as Ron fought with the packaging far more than anyone else. Curses to them for receiving bloody _small_ and easy to open packaging.

He grinned as he finally ripped the paper enough to see something other than wrapping paper, not even noticing what it was until the paper was ripped clean off. His grin remained on his face but took on a confused tone. The room grew a bit quieter as his present from Harry was noticed. Ron read the title and missed the looks darting among the different people in the room.

"Going to school with the boy who lived?" Ron finally chuckled and looked over at Hermione who seemed a little bothered, "Why didn't you tell me you wrote a book Mione?"

"I didn't."

Ron raised a brow curiously and flipped the book on the back only to choke on air. He paled as he saw a rather unflattering moving picture of him looking surprised his picture was being taken. Ron remembered the shot. Neville had taken it when he had been running late for training. The image captured it in all of its glory, giving a profile and occasionally looking directly back at whoever was looking at the picture. Ron didn't blame the image, _he_ didn't like the picture either.

Remembering to breathe, he inhaled and felt his ears begin to burn. He flipped the book around and in a move that would normally surprise everyone, he opened it to the first page. Inside was ink scrawl Ron recognized as Harry's handwriting.

' _Happy Christmas Ron. I hope you enjoy this stroll down memory lane as much as I did. Don't worry, Professor McGonagall won't give you detention for this. We got it all sorted out. Your best mate, Harry Potter.'_

Ron gave another choked noise and looked at Harry in confusion. But all he could get out was, "Detention?"

Now it was Harry's turn to take a blush.

"Professor McGonagall wanted to talk to us about some of our, _earlier_ adventures."

"McGonagall?" Ron flipped to the first page of the actual "story" to attempt to make sense of what was going on with this book from seemingly nowhere.

' _First day, new journal. Is it wrong to be this excited? Well, so long as Fred and George don't know so they won't call me mini Percy it should be fine. Hogwarts is only a train ride away. I've got my trunk, Scabbers, and Mum is downstairs making sandwiches for the trip. I hope it isn't Corned Beef..._

 _It was Corned beef.'_

That should have been forgettable. But that was clearly the day he left for Hogwarts his first year. The excitement, the corned beef. Why was that of all things so memorable?

'We never did eat that sandwich did we?'

"My journal."

"Yes Ron."

"You read it?"

Ron jumped when more than just Harry answered yes. He looked over everyone in the room and saw either guilty or knowing expressions. He groaned and looked back at Harry. He just wanted to have a Happy Christmas. He could ask them later when and why they read his journal. Also why Harry seemed to have seen it fit to turn his journals of his Hogwarts years into a leather bound book.

"Well as mortifying as this is, thank you Harry. Can't wait to read your little commentary."

"You added commentary?" Hermione asked Harry.

"It seemed like the right thing to do."

" _Right._ I'll just put this here for now. I believe we have more gifts to unwrap?"

Ron could feel a shift in the mood. Not a negative one, but a prepared one. He watched as the gifts he got for others were opened. Thanks were given and more gifts were distributed, including yet another large package on his lap. Thankfully easier to open, he stared blankly at a copy of Going to school with the boy who lived. Instinctively, he flipped it over to see the same unflattering shot of the previous book.

He felt eyes back on him as he was uncharacteristically quiet.

"Bill."

"Yes Ron?"

"What is this?"

"A gift from me and Fluer," he stated rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"A book. This book?"

Was this some kind of elaborate prank?

"Yes. Must say Ron, you had some rather wild adventures didn't you?"

"You already knew that. Told you in letters to Egypt."

"You don't write as many letters as you think Ron."

Christmas continued on, Ron getting slightly more irritable with each gift he received. Leather bound copies of his journals from school, with a casual glance, it was obvious everyone had taken an opportunity to write in their own gift to him. That being said, why had they each given him a copy of his journals. And why were they all leather bound copies? Did Harry help them pay for this? Whose idea was it?

All he gotten was his own edited journals. The straw that broke the broom was when he got the final one from Hermione.

"Okay. Whose idea was it?" Ron grumbled looking around the room.

"We didn't plan this Ron," Harry spoke quickly.

"Though we did seem to have the same idea," Hermione admitted.

"Great minds think alike," Charlie chuckled.

"Please, if that were the case, we'd all be rich selling our own accounts of Hogwarts."

"Wai- Huh? Selling?"

"Just about in every book store Ronnikins," George proclaimed, "Many are calling you the next Lockhart."

"Bloddy hell."

 **Well, I hope you are all happy with yourselves. Yet another foresaken chapter to hopefully finish this story once and for all. Everyone can thank Chuck Mangione's Land of Make Believe.**


End file.
